


Nothing Good Can Last Forever (So Enjoy It Before It's Gone)

by thinmint_writer



Series: marvel one shots [4]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Black Widow - Freeform, Brainwash, Broken Hearts, Broken Hearts Club - Freeform, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Captain America: The First Avenger, Dancing, Evil, F/M, Hydra, It's too late, Marvel - Freeform, Mind Control, Moving On, Natasha Romanoff - Freeform, Oneshot, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Red Room, SHIELD, SOLDIER - Freeform, Sadness, bucky barnes wears no mask in the beginning, bucky is different now, bucky remembers her, enhanced natasha romanoff, like in the comics, look I can write something other than ironwidow, mcu - Freeform, natalia romanov - Freeform, natasha has to move on, no violence, nothing graphic, winter soldier - Freeform, winter widow - Freeform, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 18:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinmint_writer/pseuds/thinmint_writer
Summary: Three days later was when they came. Four agents; two from the Red Room, and two bearing a symbol Natasha didn't recognize.They came in the middle of the night, while Natasha and James slept comfortably. They came through the window, which shattered as they kicked straight through the glass. They directed most of their focus on the red-haired agent at first, knowing that she was stronger than the man who didn't know his own identity. Once she was incapacitated, they easily took down the man. Then each pair of agents shook hands, and they parted ways, each walking away with their prize catch.---In which Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes have a relationship in the 80's, but they're both taken and seperated until they're reunited thirty years later, and he doesn't remember her.





	Nothing Good Can Last Forever (So Enjoy It Before It's Gone)

**Author's Note:**

> Look! Something other than IronWidow on this account! It is possible!
> 
> Comment your positive thoughts/criticism/whatever. I like to hear from you guys, and I won't be offended if you say something negative (to a point, of course).

**December 1984**

_You can't lose what you never had._

Natalia Romanov had ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's the only explanation. She was a highly trained killer, but she had barely been able to keep the man back. Now he was unconscious on her couch. 

Having been on the run from the Red Room for four months now, she figured he was a spy sent to retrieve her. She knew she could easily take down any soldier they sent her way. Unfortunately for her, she had been wrong. He wasn't from the Red Room. Where he was from remained a mystery, but it wasn't the Red Room. That just made him all the more difficult to fight. 

Natalia looked at him as he slept. He had a metal arm, which was amazingly advanced considering brick phones were still a thing. His hair was dark brown and scruffy, not too long but in desperate need of a cut. His skin was pale, and his face was lined with stubble. But there was something in particular she had noticed when they had fought; his eyes. They were cold and lifeless, and she had been in her line of business long enough to recognize someone acting against their own will. 

As far away from Russia as New York, Natalia thought she would be safe. Apparently, she was wrong about that too. When she had seen a chance in the fight behind her apartment complex, she knocked her fist against his skull with all her strength, and he fainted. Finally. After brushing the dust off her jacket and catching her breath, pulling her long red hair behind her shoulders, she dragged him up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, no easy feat. She did it though. 

It's been hours since then, and all she's done is watch him sleep. He was wearing a soldier's uniform of some sort, though Natalia had never seen one like it before. She was stumped, and since she was sure it would be awhile until he wakes up, she had also taken a shower. Her wet hair hung in strands down her back, dripping on the back of her sleep shirt. 

She was brushing her hair when she heard stirring behind her, and quickly turned around from the mirror. The man was beginning to wake up, his eyes fluttering. Natalia prepared for the worst; another fight. But when the man finally sat up, he didn't look like he wanted to fight. He looked confused; afraid. 

"Where am I?" he asked slowly, looking around carefully. Seeing as she had only been in Manhattan for a few months, and could be forced to run at any time, she had barely furnished her studio apartment. One kitchen table and a single chair, a bed, a small chest, a couch, an old television, and a coffee machine. That was it. She approached him with caution, watching his every move. 

"Who are you?" she asked him, knowing full well that he most likely didn't know. 

He confirmed her suspicions when he said "I'm not sure. What did you do to me?" 

"Cognitive recalibration," she told him smoothly, examining him closely as he looked at her, puzzled. "I hit you real hard in the head. Unscrambled your brain, for the most part." 

He nodded like he understood, though he was still confused. "And you are?" 

"I'm Nat-" she paused, realizing it was no longer safe to use her given name. "I'm Natasha. My friends call me Nat." 

"Sorry for... you know..." the brown-haired man dragged looking down at his hands. 

Natasha raised her eyebrow with a smirk. "Trying to kill me?" 

"Yeah," he said shyly. "That. I'm James, I think. I think that's my name." 

"Nice to meet you James," the red-haired girl said quietly, once again pulling the bristles of her hairbrush through her thick tangles. "What happened to you?" 

"I don't remember," he admitted. "I think... they took me. I think they made me someone I'm not. And I think you were my target." Natasha nodded thoughtfully, far from insulted. She'd always had an 'x' painted on her back. 

"I know what that's like," she said thoughtfully. "I'm on the run too." 

"From who?" 

"Not all secrets need be told, James." 

_The reality is that I will grieve forever. I will never 'get over it'._

 

\--- 

 

**February 1985**

_Most people fall out of love for the same reason they fell in it. They didn't remember what pain felt like._

Neither of them was sure how it happened, but somewhere along the way, Natasha and James started a relationship. 

At first it had been nothing serious, just the temptation of sex after realizing how similar they really were. Soon though, it grew to be something... more. There were no labels on it; neither of them had enough freedom to put a label on anything. They couldn't get attached, because one wrong move and they'd be sent running. 

But they loved each other. Were they in love? Of course not; neither of them even knew what it felt like to be in love. Neither of them had the luxury to fall in love. But they loved each other. 

Because of this, even though they knew they may have to leave at any moment, they began to build a life there in Manhattan. They furnished the apartment a bit more, bought some more clothes, and some real kitchen appliances and dishes. They also hung a few photos on the wall; photos taken of the street art around the city, mostly. They had built a home. 

So tonight, they decided to do something a bit more on the risky side, given their circumstances: they decided to go dancing. Natasha put on her nicest dress, and James put on a button-down shirt with trousers. Natasha's feet were adorned with wedge heels, and James's with leather dress shoes. A pair of diamond earrings bought for cheap at a pawn shop rested lightly in Natasha's ears. 

"You look beautiful," James muttered as he wrapped his arms around the waist of his lover. "I didn't even know you owned such a dress." 

"Seductress, remember?" Natasha smirked. By that time, she had told him much of her past, and he had told as much as he remembered. "Are you ready to go?" 

"Of course." 

They locked up their apartment tightly, with an extra lock they had purchased just in case, then descended the stairs and into the street above. Since their destination, a dancing club, was only a few blocks away, they decided to walk rather than take the train. When they walked through the city, they walked with their heads down; it was a slim chance, but if they were caught on video feed, they could be tracked, and neither of them wanted to give up their new lives for the ones they used to lead. 

When they arrived at the club, they paid the entrance fee and showed their identification, brand new, and then they entered the building. It was a semi-nice place, with brick walls and a bar in the back. A few tables decorated the edges of the room, with most of the space being empty and reserved for dancing. Fairly upbeat music was playing when they entered, and they both smiled at the sight. 

"Lovely place," Natasha muttered under her breath. 

James nodded in agreement. "We should do this again sometime." 

The red-haired beauty let out a chuckle. "We haven't even danced yet." 

"I believe I can fix that." James held out his hand for Natasha. "Care to dance, my lady?" 

"Of course, kind sir," Natasha said with a smile as they walked out onto the dance floor. 

After they had danced for awhile, they wandered over to the bar, thirsty and in need of a rest. "I'll have a whiskey sour," James told the bartender, who nodded at his request, then looking to Natasha. 

"White Russian," she told him simply. He walked away to get two glasses, as well as the bottles of booze that were needed for each drink. Three minutes later, Natasha and James were both taking the first sip from their glasses. 

As they chatted mindlessly, they didn't notice that they were approached by a photographer, probably for some newspaper. "Might I take your photo?" he asked politely. "We're running a piece on this place tomorrow, and you two make a lovely couple." 

Natasha's instincts caused her to immediately release a "no", which flowed from her lips quite smoothly, despite it's clear rudeness. 

James looked at her. "C'mon, Nat. It's just one photo. What's the worse that could happen?" 

The worse that can happen, she thought, would be they get killed. No, far worse things than death could await them, all because of a simple photograph. Sometimes James forgets the gravity of their situation, because he doesn't know who he's running from. Natasha does, and she knows what the Red Room would do to get their prized weapon back. 

"James..." 

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her waist again, burying his face in the back of her neck, making her smile. "Please..." 

In a moment of weakness, and she's not sure what made her say it, Natasha mistakenly said: "yes." 

_You never think that the last time is the last time. You think you have forever. But you don't._

__

 

\--- 

 

_We made each other feel human again. We were both punished dearly for it._

Three days later was when they came. Four agents; two from the Red Room, and two bearing a symbol Natasha didn't recognize. 

They came in the middle of the night, while Natasha and James slept comfortably. They came through the window, which shattered as they kicked straight through the glass. They directed most of their focus on the red-haired agent at first, knowing that she was stronger than the man who didn't know his own identity. Once she was incapacitated, they easily took down the man. Then each pair of agents shook hands, and they parted ways, each walking away with their prize catch. 

_If I start to miss you I'll remember you didn't walk away. You were stolen._

 

\--- 

 

**April 2014**

_I'm scared because in my past I've lost people that meant the world to me. It hurts a lot because they all said "I will be here forever" but they all walked away. Every single one._

As the bomb so carefully rolled underneath the car, towards the voice recording Natasha had set up to fool the Winter Soldier, she got ready to pounce. Almost as soon as the car went up in flames, she jumped onto the man's back, attempting to strangle him, but failing as he throws her off. 

When she feels the cold touch of his metal arm against her skin, she's sent back to a different time... three decades ago. But James was dead, and even if he wasn't, he was too old to run missions for whatever organization took him from her. Whatever cold-hearted company ripped him from her arms that night. 

Natasha quickly regained her composure and began yelling at the civilians to leave as she followed the man in close pursuit. "Get out of the way!" she yelled at one group. To another, she screamed: "Stay out of the way!" 

Suddenly, she felt the familiar feeling of a bullet making contact with her skin as one lodged in her shoulder. She cried out in pain a little as she falls looking around as the Winter Soldier approached her from behind to shoot again, when Steve intercepts and begins to fight him, giving Natasha time to scramble away to gather her bearings. 

Suddenly, the mask of the Winter Soldier goes flying through the air and lands in front of her feet on the pavement. Still gripping her shoulder in pain, Natasha looks at who the man is, and suddenly has all the wind knocked out of her. 

"James?" she asked, and as she looked into his eyes, she saw they had the same evil gleam in them they had the night she'd fought him in the Manhattan alley. 

_The strongest people are the ones with reasons to be strong._

 

\--- 

 

**May 2016**

_I have died every day waiting for you. Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years._

Natasha had never told Bucky their history, since he clearly didn't remember. It had taken her nearly those two years to refer to him as Bucky, instead of James. In her head, though, he was still James. 

Now here she was, fighting the man she had loved because of some idiotic argument, but she didn't want to fight him. She loved him. 

No, Natasha reminded herself. She doesn't love him; she loved James. But James was gone, replaced repeatedly with the Winter Soldier and the shell of a man that was Bucky Barnes. She just wanted James. 

James who would hug her and tell her everything was alright. James who would tell her how much he's missed her. James that had been so naive. James that had compromised their covers. James that had been stolen from her. James that she loved. 

"I'm starting to think you don't like me," Bucky muttered to Natasha as they fought. It was a reasonable deduction, given that she never spoke to him, even in his good moments. Not that she had been around for many of those. 

Suddenly, she turned around, sending her red curls flying through the air, and Bucky's head felt light. That hair. He dreamt of it, even when he was the Winter Soldier, he saw flashes of the red hair. He heard music and a woman saying "white Russian". He saw the beginnings of a smile on a face that he just couldn't seem to recognize, like it was only half there. Until now. 

It was Natasha. She was in his dreams. She was the one that taunted him every night in his sleep while he tried to remember who she was, and why she was important. It was her. 

"I know you," he muttered, suddenly still. Natasha's body went rigid as she heard those words leave his mouth. She wanted to love him, she really did, but he wasn't that same man any more. They had ripped him out and this time he couldn't recover. 

"I'm sorry," she told him, holding out her wrist adorned with widow bites as a single tear fell down her face. "You must be thinking of someone else." 

_Hey, little girl, don't you know loving kills you. But you don't really care, 'cause you love how it feels._


End file.
